


Winter's Dance

by BlueRam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRam/pseuds/BlueRam
Summary: "Odette the Swan Queen…I don't know, you look like an Ice Prince to me." Harry didn't have to turn around to know who it was. If the deep voice didn't give it away, or the sudden increase in the chill of the frozen lake he stood…then the flashing colours of his soul mark would.





	

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Rise of the Guardians**

**AN: Posted separately upon request**

Breathe…

Exhale…

Breathe…

Listen to the ringing song of that piano, the endless chords that flow so smoothly, like a never ending dance racing towards completion. The strum of a violin, the delicate lover that will hold your hand…whisper sweet nothings in your ear. There it is again, that piano, she sings to his soul, and he responds. He breathes… he exhales… he is free.

Harry couldn't help the exhausted smile as he completed his final stretch, green eyes a tale of wonder as he watched the falling snow from the wide windows of the ballet studio. He was sweaty, hot and more than tired…but he felt so complete, the warmth of that special mark upon his wrist soothing the ever present anxiety he had at a time like this. Against all odds he had been chosen, he would star in the leading role of the swan queen Odette in Moscow, Russia. It wouldn't be his first trip to the country, he was practically a citizen. He had made the trip himself when he was very much young and inexperienced, the smiling visage of his parents at his back.

He had set out to become a prima ballerina one day, he trained hard…he fell hard…he lost hard, but in the end, he had become the newly signed dancer for the Classical Russian Ballet. His father had been…proud. James Potter wasn't much for the fine arts, even made fun of it in his youth, sighting that such feats were emasculating and not worth his time. His tune had quickly changed in light of his only child's passion. How could he claim something that his son loved not worth his time? He didn't understand it, this drive…the pursuit Harry had in mind, but he would stick by him one hundred percent. Even if his coworkers mocked him for a son that didn't live up to the image of "masculinity." Never mind that at just eleven, said boy could lift a ninety-five pound thirteen year old in the air, without a stagger or even strain.

Harry smiled lightly, eyes soft as he watched the crystal snowflake tattoo on his wrist change colour, a light almost silvery blue before it was white once more, appearing silver against his pale skin. _He_ was here…and having the time of his life he could see.

"Hey, pothead! Talking to your imaginary lover again?!" A scornful voice interrupted his muse. With a light sigh, Harry opened a bottle of water, barely acknowledging his latest annoyance as a few locks of damp raven hair escaped their messy bun to fall into his eyes.

He had gotten used to this…the scorn, or was it jealousy? It could be jealousy, Harry mused as spared Draco a single look. He was a beautiful man, platinum blond hair neat and caught in a high ponytail, cascading past his shoulders. A perfect silhouette too, clad in a fitted long sleeve black shirt and equally fitted ballet leggings. His piercing blue eyes were…troubled, sad…even with that scowl on his face, gaze straying to the almost invisible mark upon Harry's wrist.

That's right, Draco had always made it his mission to mess with him, bring him down. A strange sense of possessiveness when anyone would show him, Harry the time of day. His behaviour had only gotten worse as they grew together in their company, from little boys of eight to twenty-one-year-olds. A behaviour that had become worse at the appearance of a soul mark upon Harry's pale skin. A delicate unique snowflake, that changed colours at the drop of a hat, a marking of the one that was his destined other half's forever changing moods.

Soulmates. It was something beautiful, enchanting…a wonder that brought so much heartache yet so much love. Not everyone had a soul mate…not many lived long enough to see the appearance of that simple mark that would define their true love. Even then, not many were strong enough to handle the influx of emotions that weren't their own. Almost like if he knew _h_ e was thinking of him, the mark heated up once an aurora of colour that glowed brightly, gaining the looks of curious ballet dancers, the young ballerinas giggling with light blushes and prima ballerina, looking on with a strange sense of pride and sadness as she studied her prize student.

She had lost her soulmate, Anastasia, to a sport she had loved dearly. Professional skiing. A freak accident that no one could have predicted much less plan for, and just like that she was gone, and along with her the soul mark that would have bound them for an eternity.

"I will be the next prima ballerina! This gig of your means nothing Potter, even with your stupid soul mark and stupid soulmate! They don't really love you, all they will do is hurt you and I'll stand by and watch you suffer!" Draco hissed, uncaring at the furious glares he was given by their fellow dancers.

Soulmates…it was something beautiful, but it was also a concept that could see you hurt beyond repair. Draco Malfoy had a soulmate once, was happy for a moment…but then, his soulmate she loved someone else. She did not want to be with him, but with her lover from her teen days. She had left him with a proclamation that they should only be friends. That's right, you could find your soulmate…it didn't mean you had to be with them. Harry sighed, he wouldn't show pity…Draco didn't need pity. Without a word he approached the suddenly suspicious dancer, smiling softly as he stood right before him, without a thought, he gently kissed his forehead, whispering—

"Merry Christmas, Draco." And he was out the door, a pleasant smile as he took his jacket from his instructor and left the studio. He had someone to go meet…he had left him waiting for too long now. He was unaware of the steady stream of crystal tears that painted Draco's cheeks, or the small smile that was the first for many years.

* * *

"Odette the Swan Queen…I don't know, you look like an Ice Prince to me." Harry didn't have to turn around to know who it was. If the deep voice didn't give it away, or the sudden increase in the chill of the frozen lake he stood…then the flashing colours of his soul mark would.

"And let me guess, you'll be the ice king!" Harry snarked with a roll of his eyes, breath fogging over as he sighed, strong arms wrapping around his slender frame.

"Well, it's only right. I _am_ the Jack Frost." Was the cocky reply he was given as he was quite suddenly spun into the man's arms, both slowly skating across the ice, a slow shhh that echoed around them. Harry laughed in joy as he was expertly twirled, shaved ice flying around their feet as snow fell heavily from the sky. He could almost hear that piano and violin again. The song of lovers as Jack smiled down at him, silvery blue eyes alight with childish joy…with fun. The man's laugh was warm, melding perfectly with Harry's own as they twirled in the ice…the perfect duet as they moved in sync.

Breathe…

Exhale…

Breathe…

Harry's heart soared, emerald eyes unable to look away from the man that was his soulmate…the man that many could see, but because he _believed…_

The man that had always been there, a lightning bolt upon his wrist shining gold as the moon shined down on them both.

"Merry Christmas, my love. Watch, in a few years you'll be my beautiful prima ballerina…the Ice Prince who became my beautiful Queen." Jack whispered, an aurora of light shining above them, bells tinkling and the soft strum of a violin twirling around the chords of a piano.

Harry felt no shame when he suddenly tipped upon his toes, kissing Jack's warm lips, before twirling away with laughter.

"Merry Christmas, Jack my heart. My precious Ice King."


End file.
